Harry Potter and the Sennen Enigma
by Kitai Shinsei
Summary: Harry Potter crossover with Yu-Gi-Oh. Harry learns to play Duel Monsters... and there's someone unexpected at Order Headquarters. I suck at summaries. The story's MUCH better!


Title: Harry Potter and the Sennen Enigma  
  
Rating: R (Will contain slash, implied sexual situations and possible violence. I just want to be safe).  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter and Yu-Gi-Oh, do you honestly think I'd be struggling to save up for the Prisoner of Azkaban game and a PS2? No! I'd be rich! Not to mention both series would be riddled with even more hints at slash than they have already. (Can we just say that Pegasus SO wants to get into Yugi's pants?) Ahem...anyways... no, I don't own either of them.  
  
Warnings: Um... slash, femme-slash...Oh, and there may be some violence.  
  
Pairings: Ron/not telling, possibly (In fact likely) Harry/Severus, Seamus/Dean, Yami/Yugi, Yami/Seto, Tristan/Joey, Yugi/Ryou (normal Bakura), Dark Bakura/Ryou, Hermione/Ginny, possibly Anzu/Mai. Yeesh... everyone's gay in this... o.O;;; I might change some stuff.  
  
Author's notes: When you have only two serious obsessions and you think of both almost constantly and at the same time, this is the result. I really hope this one has a better fate than my last... three. Although I am still working on Otherworld Threat.  
  
I know you guys are waiting for me to write Chapter 5 of Harry Potter and the Rise of Darkness. I will have it up ASAP. It's almost done.  
  
Umm... for those who don't know much about the Japanese version of YGO, a Sennen Item is a Millennium Item. I'll refer to them as MI's in this, but Sennen sounded better in the title. Also... I call Téa by her Japanese name, Anzu, in this when I use her, which is rarely ('cause I don't really like her much). Simply because I have problems with the little thingy above the e in Téa.  
  
Furthermore Listens to multitude of groans (Sorry, sorry), I have heard that there are many HP/YGO fics out there, none of which I have ever read. If this bears any resemblance to a story you have written/read, I promise, it is entirely coincidental.  
  
Dedication: To one of my favourite authors, Jackie Malfoy for the idea of who to pair Ron up with in this. If you want to know, GO READ HER FIC "BEATING THE ODDS"! It's really awesome!  
  
And that's enough rambling from me... On with the story!  
  
Chapter One: Many Surprises.  
  
Life at Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry noted, was even more chaotic than usual. Although, he reflected, at least the chaos wasn't directed at him for once.  
  
Harry Potter was a wizard, fresh from his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had lived at Number Four for fifteen years, but due to its inhabitants extreme dislike of magic, Harry was about as welcome in their house as a termite infestation in the rafters.  
  
Harry lived with his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and their rather obese son, Dudley. They were his only living relatives ( his parents having been murdered when he had been but a year old.  
  
The newly turned sixteen-year-old boy flopped down on his bed with a sigh. He was onto that train of thought again and he knew he couldn't escape from it. His parents had been killed, yes, by the most feared dark wizard for a century, though some thought perhaps the most feared dark wizard ever. Voldemort. Voldemort, who had disposed of a mother and father, then tried to kill a one-year-old baby. But due to the love of his mother, the baby Harry Potter had been able to deflect the killing curse onto Voldemort himself. Barely clinging to life, the less-than-a-spirit of Voldemort had fled, feeding off the life forces of snakes and other such creatures.  
  
Many thought him gone for good, though even after thirteen years, most still feared hearing his name spoken aloud.  
  
And after thirteen years, Harry had been witness to Voldemort at last returning to full strength, had seen his friend die beside him, and a year later seen his servants murder the closest thing Harry had to a parent ( his godfather, Sirius Black.  
  
It had been barely a month since that day. Harry still found it hard to think about. He would think of something, or see something, and want to write to Sirius about it, only to realise he couldn't.  
  
At least, he pondered, forcing his thoughts away from this painful subject, the Dursleys weren't focused as much on him any more. There had been very few threats sent his way, no one expected him to do anything but walk around and exist.  
  
The reason: it appeared as though Vernon and Petunia Dursley's marriage was falling to pieces.  
  
There were arguments over the finances, over Dudley's eating habits, over Uncle Vernon's obsession with drills and his car, over the fact that it looked his company was heading towards liquidation. Aunt Petunia was especially displeased at Uncle Vernon's sudden turn to drinking. This made him violent and, as Aunt Petunia had plainly stated in one particularly loud row, "It did not do for the neighbours to see him in such a condition."  
  
If Harry was surprised about any of this, it was that he was very rarely mentioned. He though he would at least be the cause of some of the problems, especially seeing as Aunt Petunia had, last year, refused to allow her husband to throw the boy from the house.  
  
Harry yawned and rolled over on his bed, reaching over the side to get at the loose floorboard which covered his secret stash of birthday presents that he had been given two days previously. One of his best friends, Ron Weasley, had given him yet another book on the wizarding sport, Quidditch, while Ron's parents had sent him a cake and some home made fudge.  
  
His other best friend, Hermione Granger, had sent him a far less likeable present. Another homework planner ("Don't lose this one, too. Honestly, I don't know how you could have managed to misplace something so important to your studies, Harry!" she had written scoldingly in the accompanying letter).  
  
Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper at Hogwarts, and also Care of Magical Creatures professor, had given Harry a large box of sweets (Including his favourites ( Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs... and had included a packet of what looked horribly like Cockroach Clusters), as well as some home made cinnamon buns that, when Harry dropped them accidentally, cracked one of the floorboards by the window.  
  
He had been surprised to get presents from members of the Order of the Phoenix as well. This was a group of select people (founded by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore) standing up against Voldemort and his vile servants, the Death Eaters.  
  
Nymphadora Tonks (who, for obvious reasons, chose to be known by her last name) has given him a small wizarding radio that allowed Harry to keep up to date with the news and views of his world (cut off as he was by the Dursleys' hatred of magic). Harry began to find himself becoming rather a big fan of the Weird Sisters, a popular singing group made up entirely of wizards, not a witch among them.  
  
Remus Lupin, who had been a friend of Harry's parents and had also taught Defence Against the Dark Arts in Harry's third year, had provided him with more books on defence and had written that he hoped Harry would continue the Defence Against the Dark Arts club the young wizard had started the previous year.  
  
The fact that he still had contact with his friends, Harry thought whilst carefully selecting a bean and popping it into his mouth, was quite possibly the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.  
  
Ugh. Spinach.  
  
The only thing really affecting Harry at the moment was boredom. He wandered around, ate, slept, read the paper, listened to the wireless, reread letters from his friends (correspondence was still limited due to the fact that there was always a chance owls could be intercepted) and in general just existed.  
  
And worse still, Ron and Hermione had hinted in their last letters that it could be up to three weeks before they would be able to risk getting Harry out of there.  
  
The black-haired teenager sighed. It had been daylight for an hour, for all the good it did. The sky was grey and heavy, and occasionally an ominous thunder clap would rumble across Privet Drive. He faced yet another day of absolutely nothing. There were only so many times one could read 'Flying with the Cannons'.  
  
Reluctantly, he got to his feet and made his way through the debris and detritus of his bedroom floor to get to his cupboard. He glared at himself in the mirror. He was thin and gangly, with long, skinny limbs that looked even skinnier considering he was wearing his cousin's second-hand pyjamas which were at least ten sized too big for him. He had black hair that was always messy (It looked even worse now as Harry hadn't bothered to comb it in days) and was growing longer so that his fringe hung in his eyes, which were a bright emerald green, covered by round black-rimmed glasses. Hidden by his hair, above his left eyebrow, was a thin scar shaped like a lightning bolt; the only memento of Voldemort's first attempt on his life. His skin was pale.  
  
Harry turned away from his reflection with a grimace and busied himself with finding some clothes to wear. Aunt Petunia had not bothered with the washing for some time, and the supply of clean clothes in the house was running low.  
  
Eventually though, he settled on a pair of very baggy blue jeans which he held up with a belt looped twice around his waist and a red-checked shirt that hung down to his knees. Bending down, he rolled up the cuffs of the jeans before sitting down on the bed and pondering what to do with his day. He had sent Hedwig out the previous day with letters to Ron and Hermione. With any luck, she would have returned by the evening. Harry grabbed a pillow and held it against his face to stifle a yell of frustration. That would be the highlight of his day - his owl returning.  
  
It wasn't fair. Really it wasn't.  
  
Through the pillow, he heard a knock on the door and looked up, curious. No one in the Dursley family ever knocked on his door. They usually preferred to bash it almost off its hinges.  
  
"Er... come in?" Harry called uncertainly.  
  
The door creaked open, and Harry saw, to his immense surprise, the vast form of Dudley Dursley silhouetted in the frame. Warily, Harry got to his feet. "What do you want?"  
  
"Um... I wanted to talk to you." Dudley said, stepping heavily into the room and closing the door.  
  
'What about?" Harry asked, arms folded across his chest. Now that his cousin had come into the light, the black-haired boy could see that Dudley was upset. His beady eyes were red and puffy, and every now and then he let out a loud sniff.  
  
"Er, are you okay?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'm fine." Dudley snapped defensively. "I've got a cold, that's all."  
  
"Ah." Harry said, and the two of them stood there for a while, staring at each other. They made an odd pair. One skinny with spiky black hair, the other obese with blond hair slicked to his scalp.  
  
Eventually Harry moved over to the chair by his desk and sat down, and gestured for Dudley to take a seat on the bed. "What d'you want to talk about?" He asked again, feeling that at least he could have a conversation with something that wasn't feathered.  
  
"Mum and Dad." Dudley said with a sigh. He sat down on the bed. It creaked ominously and Harry eyed it, thinking that it was perhaps a bad idea to let his cousin sit on it. "I think they might be getting a divorce."  
  
This was of no surprise to Harry. He frequently listened in on their fights ( not that it was exactly hard to do. However, he feigned a look of surprise for Dudley's sake. "Really?"  
  
The fat boy nodded. "You must've heard them. I know you're not deaf." He looked at the ceiling. "Mum's falling apart. She... she won't even speak to me any more, you know that?"  
  
This did come as a surprise. Aunt Petunia loved her son, and was forever doting on him. "She won't? How come?"  
  
"She went to see some shrink. He gave her these freaky pills. Now she doesn't even come out of her room. And Dad..." He gave a snort. "Dad's never around any more, and when he is he just passes out on the couch."  
  
As Harry rarely left his room these days, he hadn't known this. Dudley sighed again. "I... I guess I just wanted to talk to someone. You don't have parents. I figured you'd understand."  
  
Harry marvelled at this. Dudley Dursley, the bane of his existence for fifteen years, had come to him for comfort. He sighed. "Listen, Dudley. Sometimes this kind of thing happens. People go through hard times. Sometimes they come through it, other times they don't. Like you said, I don't have parents, and I don't remember much of them, so I can't tell you how it feels to think your family's falling apart. "Sometimes though, it hurts. Sometimes I want to just talk to them. People are always telling me I look like my dad..."  
  
He trailed off and thought for a bit before continuing, "Remember I told you about my godfather, Sirius?"  
  
Dudley nodded, clearly perplexed at where this was going.  
  
"In June... I thought he was in trouble, so I went to go help him. Some of my friends came along. It was just a stupid trap though. I ended up in trouble, and Sirius came to rescue me. He..." A knot had formed in Harry's chest, as it had many days this summer. "He died. I saw him die."  
  
"You saw someone die?" Dudley asked, horrified.  
  
Harry nodded. "The closest I can come to how it feels to watch a family fall apart, is how it felt watching Sirius die."  
  
"I had no idea." Dudley said, still staring at Harry as though he'd never seen him before.  
  
"Of course, you had no idea, I never talk to you people, do I?" Harry said, impatiently. "If it weren't for the fact that your mum and dad are terrified of my friends turning them into slime or whatever, I'd have spent the last month in the cupboard under the stairs again!"  
  
"Sorry." Dudley said.  
  
Harry, not expecting such an answer, fell silent. Then he gave an impatient sigh and moved over to the loose floorboard under his bed.  
  
"What're you doing?" Dudley asked, worriedly, clearly thinking that Harry was about to sic some strange and dark creature on him.  
  
Harry sat up and held up a box of sweets.  
  
"What're those?"  
  
"Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans." Harry replied. "They're like jelly beans, only, instead of only being the usual flavours like strawberry, lime, chocolate and whatnot, they've got stuff like liver, steak, spinach... I've had grass once or twice. They're really fun."  
  
"You're pulling my leg!" Dudley said.  
  
"Try one and see. They won't hurt you. Here." And Harry popped one into his mouth, then grimaced. "Raw cabbage. Not my favourite." He said, offering the box to Dudley.  
  
His cousin, seemingly convinced that Harry wasn't about to poison him, took a red one and chewed on it for a bit. His eyes widened. "Sausage?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Told you. Wizards aren't all bad you know."  
  
"No, you're not." Dudley agreed, helping himself to another bean and grimacing. "Yuck. Spinach."  
  
Harry laughed. "You don't like it?"  
  
"No. Disgusting stuff." Dudley said, making a face. Then he brightened. "Hey, have you ever heard of Duel Monsters?"  
  
Harry blankly shook his head. Dudley stared at him incredulously. "You haven't? Your kind may not be all bad, but you're sure kept out of the loop when it comes to cool stuff."  
  
"It would help if you told me what it was." Harry said a little testily. He chewed on another bean and tried to place the flavour. Caramelised tree bark or something.  
  
"Wait here." Dudley said, getting up so suddenly that the bed rebounded quickly enough to send Harry almost a foot into the air. "I'll be right back." And he hurriedly left the room, only to return less than a minute later holding a cardboard shoe box. He sat down again. The bed groaned its complaint once more.  
  
"It's a game." Dudley said. "It was started in Japan by... ugh... I forget. Something Illusions. Either way, it's become one of the most popular games ever! It's sweeping the globe." He pulled the lid off the box. In it was something yellow with what seemed to be black stripes. The large boy pulled it out and unfolded it. It had a green border and was divided into two equal yellow halves. What Harry had thought were stripes were actually lots of black-bordered rectangles. "This is a duelling mat."  
  
"Okay." Harry said, immediately thinking of the wizarding style of duelling which involved firing spells at your opponents with a wand. Somehow, Harry expected that this was rather different. "What do you duel with?"  
  
"These," Dudley said, rather proudly, reaching into he box once more and pulling out several stacks of cards, all bound together with elastic bands. "Duel Monster cards. There are monster cards, magic cards and trap cards. I don't have the best collection, but I have enough to make two decks, if you want to learn, that is."  
  
Harry shrugged. It meant he'd have something to do with his day. For a moment he marvelled over how odd it was, that one of his least favourite people on the planet was sharing sweets with him and teaching him how to play some new Muggle game.  
  
"Sure." Harry said.  
  
Within the next two weeks, it seemed that Harry and Dudley had formed quite a strong bond. They spent hours together playing Duel Monsters (Dudley usually won, but there had been a rather amazing victory of Harry's one afternoon when the young wizard's Celtic Guardian had, with the help of a few choice magic cards and a rather amazing trap, beaten Dudley's Summoned Skull) or merely chatting. Dudley, it appeared, was fascinated by the wizarding world, especially Quidditch.  
  
"It's a sport," Harry had said. "We play it on broomsticks."  
  
"Really?" Dudley had asked, and Harry had shown him his books on the subject, particularly "Flying with the Cannons" and "Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland". Dudley had been amazed at the way the pictures moved and Harry had even shown him his Firebolt (a broomstick that had been given to him in his third year by Sirius. It was still considered one of the fastest, best quality racing brooms ever made).  
  
It was another rainy day. The cousins were in Dudley's room and Harry was losing rather spectacularly in their duel (he was down to one-hundred life points while Dudley still had one-thousand-two-hundred, and he had just played his last monster card, Kuriboh, the weakest monster ever created).  
  
Dudley had at last wiped out Kuriboh with his Flame Swordsman and reduced his opponent's points to nil (Early on he had placed a Defence Paralysis card on the field which prevented Harry from playing any cards in Defence Mode) when they heard a tapping at the window.  
  
"Hey, Harry? Isn't that your owl?"  
  
"Hedwig!" Harry cried, getting to his feet and throwing open the window. Hedwig, his snowy owl, fluttered in and landed on the back of a chair, giving him a highly reproachful look for not being in the right room. She was soggy and bedraggled and was now dripping water all over the carpet.  
  
"Is she okay?" Dudley asked, looking a bit nervous of coming near her.  
  
"I think so. I'm just going to take her to my room so she can rest. Coming?"  
  
Dudley nodded and got heavily to his feet. Harry coaxed Hedwig onto his arm. The owl glared at him and complied in a dignified sort of way, though when Harry finally set her down on her perch, she nipped his fingers affectionately, ate an owl treat and set about cleaning and drying her feathers.  
  
Harry untied the roll of parchment from her ankle. It had been bewitched not to get wet so it was clearly readable.  
  
"What's it say?" Asked Dudley, who was flipping through one of Harry's spell books from last year. "And by the way... can you actually do all this stuff?"  
  
Harry looked over at him. "That's 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five', right? Most of it. I'm not the best at Charms. That's my friend, Hermione. Though she's pretty much good at everything. Defence Against the Dark Arts is my strong point."  
  
"Figures." Dudley grinned. Harry had told him all about his escapades over the last five years. "So what's your letter say?"  
  
Harry had almost forgotten about it.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I hope this gets to you okay - how's this rain, eh? Hedwig doesn't  
seem too pleased. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be entirely thrilled  
going out in this. Makes a change from last year though. That drought  
was something else.  
  
Anyway, Lupin, Tonks and them are coming to fetch you tomorrow  
evening. They want you to be ready so you guys don't muck about too  
much. Dad might be joining them.  
  
See you tomorrow!  
  
Ron  
  
"I'm being picked up tomorrow." Harry said.  
  
Dudley looked up, puzzled. "You're leaving?"  
  
Harry nodded. It was strange. Normally, he couldn't wait to leave Privet Drive, but now, he felt rather sad about it.  
  
"What time?"  
  
"He just said 'tomorrow evening'." Harry said. He sat down on the bed. "I'll write as often as I can. I'll show you how to tie letters to Hedwig's leg when she's rested. As she is now, she'd probably bite our fingers off if we tried.  
  
Dudley have a half smile. "Oh well. At least it's been fun."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They were silent for a bit, then, "It's a pity. Piers is coming back from holiday tomorrow. I wondered if you'd like to get together with us, have tournaments and stuff." Dudley said.  
  
Harry imagined hanging out with Dudley's gang. He'd probably hex the lot before one day had passed. "Might have been fun." He said. "But things are... bad... at the moment."  
  
"With... what's his name? Voldemort?"  
  
Harry nodded. "This is probably one of the few chances they'll have to get me out of here safely. At least if I'm around the Order, I can get my school stuff sorted out before term begins."  
  
"Yeah." Dudley said. Then, "You had another nightmare last night. I heard you shouting."  
  
Harry looked puzzled. He didn't remember dreaming. "What was I saying?"  
  
Dudley shrugged. "You started off with that same one from last year. About... Sydney? No, Cedric. Then you were telling Sirius to tell you why."  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"I don't know. You tell me. Why he did something, I guess." Dudley snorted. "And then... you were saying something like 'Severus, I'm sorry. I'm not my dad...' uh... and then I think it was 'I care about you too much to hurt you.'"  
  
Harry stared at him like he was mad. "You're sure I said 'Severus'?"  
  
Dudley nodded at him. "Yeah. Why? Who's Severus?"  
  
"Just someone I know..." Harry looked at his hands, puzzled. Then he shook his head. "Hey, you up for another duel?"  
  
"I'll kick your arse again." Dudley said with a smirk.  
  
"Hah. You wish."  
  
At around six the following evening, Harry sat at the bottom of the stairs with his trunk, Hedwig's cage (he had sent her on ahead with his reply and told her to stay there waiting for him) and his broomstick, since he knew they would probably be flying. He had informed his aunt and uncle of his imminent departure. Aunt Petunia had nodded vaguely while slowly drinking a cup of tea Dudley had made for her (Harry had had to teach his cousin to cook as his mother no longer seemed capable of much), and Uncle Vernon had merely grunted.  
  
Ten-past-six. Harry sighed. He wished they'd given him a specific time as to when they'd be picking him up. He was not naturally patient, and weeks of not going outdoors much was really starting to get to him.  
  
Twenty-past-six. Harry started restacking the Duel Monsters deck he had put together (Dudley had taken him to a gaming store where he had bought a starter and booster pack) in order of monster, magic, then trap.  
  
Half-past-six. He shuffled everything up again and tied them together with an elastic band before slipping them once again into his trunk, along with Dudley's spare duelling mat.  
  
Twenty-to-seven. He went to the bathroom. He had just finished when he heard a knock on the door. Cursing the Order's timing, he washed his hands and dried them on his jeans as he quickly sprinted down the hall.  
  
He opened the door. Outside stood an assortment of familiar faces, all dressed in Muggle clothing. Remus Lupin, as always rather shabby, was wearing a pair of patched, faded jeans and a knitted pullover depicting stylised forms of a wolf, a large black dog and a stag (Harry assumed Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, had made it). His sandy-coloured hair was streaked with grey, though he was only in his thirties, and his tired eyes bore a far more haunted look. He did however smile warmly at Harry, and pulled him into a one armed hug in greeting.  
  
Also in the group was a very familiar red-headed boy in his late teens. "Hi... er... Fred?" Harry queried. The boy laughed. "Nah. George. Fred's running the store."  
  
Fred and George were Ron's older twin brothers, identical down to the last freckle, which was why Harry usually had such a job telling them apart unless they were right next to each other. They had caused quite a stir last year, when they had wreaked havoc upon the school and then left more than a month before exams. Now they ran a joke shop in Diagon Alley.  
  
A tall, balding man, also with red hair, hurried forward to shake Harry's hand. Harry grinned. This was Arthur, head of the Weasley clan. "How are you, Harry? Have you been treated all right? You certainly look better fed than the last time I saw you."  
  
This was true. As he was, until teaching Dudley, the only one to cook these days, it meant he at least got one decent meal a day, which made quite a difference to previous years.  
  
The final member of the group was a woman whom Harry did not know. She was of medium height, perhaps in her late thirties, wearing a pair of baggy blue overalls covering a pink t-shirt, the legend of which was obscured. Her hair was shoulder-length, and a violent shade of red, streaked with black, and hung about her face as though full of static electricity. She looked at the dark-haired teenager with an easy-going grin and said, "Wotcher, Harry."  
  
Harry grinned, suddenly recognising her. It was Nymphadora Tonks, who hated her first name. The last time Harry had seen this dark wizard catcher, she had looked her age, twenty-two, and had had bubblegum pink hair, her usual style. She was a Metamorphmagus and, looking at her now, Harry could easily appreciate how she'd managed to get top marks in disguise in Auror training.  
  
"So, Harry. All ready to go?" Lupin asked, shrinking Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage with a flick of his wand and passing them to Tonks to put in the rucksack she was carrying.  
  
"Yeah..." Harry said listlessly. He had been hoping Dudley would have been there to see him off. He had gone to Kings Cross Train Station to welcome Piers back from holiday. Shrugging, he followed the suit of the rest of them and mounted his broom stick.  
  
"Hey!" shouted a voice. "Hey! Wait!"  
  
Looking round, Harry saw the large figure of Dudley Dursley running towards them. The teen dismounted and waited for his cousin, broom held nonchalantly in his left hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw George slip a hand into the inside pocket of the jacket he was wearing and shook his head.  
  
"Dud!" he called. "You're just in time!"  
  
The large boy skidded to a halt and tried to catch his breath. "Sorry..." he panted. "Mrs... Polkiss... insisted... that I... have... tea." He wiped off his forehead. "I thought I'd... missed you for sure."  
  
"Nah. We were just leaving now." Harry said. "You'll be all right taking care of everything here, won't you. Remember what I said about switching off the gas when you're done cooking. Unless you want to turn your house into one big bomb."  
  
Dudley nodded and grinned. "I'm glad we're friends now." he said suddenly, taking Harry aback.  
  
"Yeah." Harry said. "So'm I."  
  
The two shook hands and Dudley clapped him lightly on the back, sending him sprawling forwards a bit. "Good luck on those nightmares. And remember you promised to write, OK?"  
  
"You better tell me the excuses you come up with at Smeltings to explain the frequent visitations of a snowy owl." Harry said, smiling.  
  
"Harry." Prompted Lupin, and Harry's smile turned rueful.  
  
"I have to go. See you next summer, then?"  
  
"If you survive this year." Dudley said, half-joking, half-serious.  
  
"Don't worry. I usually do." Harry said, mounting his Firebolt once again.  
  
"Ready?" Said Lupin. "Then let's go."  
  
As one, the five of them kicked off from the ground and soared high up into the air. Harry looked down to see Dudley waving at him. He waved back, and then looked ahead. Rain clouds, kept at bay by the sun for most of the day, were building up. Far below him were hundreds of cars, the drivers making there way home from a long day's work.  
  
George Weasley came up next to him and shouted over the wind, "What was that all about?"  
  
"What?" Harry called back.  
  
"That whole thing with your cousin. I thought you hated him!"  
  
"I did... it's kind of a long story."  
  
"It's kind of a long flight." George hinted, coming in a little closer to save their vocal cords.  
  
Harry explained about the situation with the Dursleys and how he and Dudley had formed a bond in the last two weeks. "I must say, it makes a change. Not arguing or getting beaten to a pulp all the time.  
  
"I can imagine." George said. "Hey look. We're almost there." He pointed down at a small dingy suburb. As if on cue, Remus Lupin pointed downwards and began his descent with the others following.  
  
They touched down in a small square of filthy unkempt houses which hadn't seemed to have changed since a year ago, when Harry had last been here. Many of the windows were still broken and covered by brown paper that was dissolving in the rain which had begun to fall again in a light, steady spray. The street itself was ridden with litter and rubbish. Something squashed was stuck to the tar of the street and was giving off the pungent odour of something that had once been alive quite a while ago.  
  
Once again, Harry looked at the houses to his left. One had graffitied walls, spray-paint almost covering a brass 11. Another had peeling paint and the only sign that a number had once been attached to the wall was a slightly cleaner bit of paint shaped in the number 13.  
  
"Think of what we have to." Said Lupin. "All together now."  
  
Harry was slightly confused, before he remembered that he was supposed to think of "Number 12 Grimmauld Place". As soon as this thought crossed his mind, another house began appearing in between numbers 11 and 13. It, too, was in a state of disrepair, though Harry thought the windows were slightly cleaner than they had been last year.  
  
"Come on, quick." Said George's voice in his ear, jolting the teenager out of his reverie. "Let's go inside. And remember, keep your voice down."  
  
Harry grinned. "Still haven't got the portrait of Sirius's mum off the wall?" Then his face fell. Sirius...  
  
George too, looked uncomfortable. "No, we haven't." he mumbled. He ushered Harry inside quickly followed by Tonks, Lupin and Arthur who closed the door behind him.  
  
Harry found himself immediately enveloped in a hug. When he was released, he looked down into the face of Mrs Weasley. He was shocked to see he was now taller than her and realised he must have grown quite a bit in the last six weeks.  
  
"How are you, Harry dear?" She asked. She was a chubby woman, with hair as red as the rest of the Weasley family. Harry noticed that she had lost quite a bit of weight and had dark shadows under her eyes. She seemed much older. "Was the flight okay? Oh I knew we should have organised a Portkey. Look at this weather, you're soaking. Didn't I say use a Portkey, Arthur?"  
  
"Yes, Molly, dear." Said Arthur. "But I told you; that wasn't going to happen. For starters the time window was too small to get one authorised."  
  
Molly scowled at him slightly, then sighed. "I know. But the poor boy's never looked after well in that place. I won't be surprised when he gets sick."  
  
"Thanks Mrs Weasley. But I'll be fine. I've been caught out in the rain plenty of times." Harry said, and the woman smiled slightly at him.  
  
"Oh, I know. I worry too much. I suppose you'll be wanting to see Ron and Hermione. I daresay they'll be happy to see you."  
  
She led Harry up the stairs. Tonks called out softly, "Oi, you'll be needing these!" She tossed Harry his miniaturised trunk and Hedwig's cage. Due to her poor aim, Harry caught the trunk, but the cage sailed over his head into the air, heading for a mirror just behind the dark-haired teen to his left. Harry braced himself for the crash, but one never came.  
  
"You really ought to be more careful, Potter." Drawled a horribly familiar voice. "Or have you forgotten that things wake up in this house. I was under the impression your memory was slightly better than that."  
  
Harry turned slowly. He faced a boy dressed, like himself, in Muggle jeans and a t-shirt. He had a slightly pointed face, one side of the fringe of his slightly long silver-blonde hair was tucked behind an ear, while the other side obscured one of his ice-blue eyes. In one pale hand he held the tiny cage.  
  
Burning hatred welled up in him, and he turned to face Mrs Weasley, who looked both shocked and relieved that there had been no noise. "What's Malfoy doing here?" he spat.  
  
Heheheh! Cliffie! I'm evil. XD  
  
Please review this story! I've really been working on it. (And yes, I know. I will upload the next part of Rise of Darkness ASAP, OK?)  
  



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